Do Not Cry For Me
by MysticInca
Summary: A rather quick drabble staring Itachi and an OC, nothing more than a dark yet sweet tragedy.


_Disclaimer: Naruto and company belong to their respective owners. If this fan-fiction resembles any other, its merely coincedental._

**..Do Not Cry For Me.. **

Unobtrusive, the light from the moon broke through the darkness; giving sight to a lone traveler. The whisper of fabric his only sound as he moves through the night: an eerie calm pulses from his aura and keeps the curious creatures away.

His silent footsteps are sure and solid: not a sign of arrogance but of the confidence expressed in every simple movement. A predator, a stalker-of the night he shall always be trapped within.

Small puffs of dust rise with his steps, this is a road traveled many times before. His destination only known by few and his reasons understood by fewer. He prefers it this way. To kill is his life, he's nearly forgotten how it feels to protect.

Unhurried, soft footsteps near a home, their home. White washed walls set to the frame his sweat and blood coats. Expression always blank, a wry smirk flashes within his dark eyes. This small building is a home built through his aggravation; it is no home to him but for the one that sleeps within.

Sure steps lead him to the door, a soft slide and it's open, meticulously he removes his robe; slowly undressing until he reaches his destination. Eyes that won him his fame now gaze down upon a woman; his woman. A few moments more and he's lying beside her, their unclothed forms pressing together. Agile fingers push aside the black silk curtain of her hair and expose her cherished profile.

Lips curl to hidden amusement with her quiet moan, for a moment he is tempted to peer into her dreams, for a moment

Pale arms suddenly come to life and flail against invisible hands, glowing in the faint moonlight they struggle against unseen bonds.

Dark eyes watch in detached interest before reaching forward and ending her nightmare. Strong arms wrap around slender shoulders, effectively ceasing the violent movements. Hazy indigo eyes open and show glassy tears rolling down the gentle curve of her cheek.

"What did you dream of?"

"Your face," the softly spoken words bring an empty smirk to his blank face.

"Silly girl, dream of dolls and laughter and love. Do not dream of me or my face." The touch of gentleness in his voice is rough with disuse.

"Ah," is her usual reply, her face tilting upward her lips asking for his kiss.

Her wish is granted, before long tender caresses soothe and hushed whispers heat. Limbs quickly become tangled and the soft tones both enjoy change to harsh cries and breathy moans. Their reunion is passionate as well as detached as they come together. Afterwards they lay together just as dawn's light seeps in through the small window. Both taking comfort from the silence of predawn and the warmth shared within the tangle of limbs.

Sunlight peeks from behind the mountains and creatures of the land emerge, the silence never wavering as long ebony tresses tousled from the night dance with the playful morning breeze. Cerulean eyes watched from behind long dark lashes as a man dressed, his dark almost black eyes watching in return as she clutched the sheet to her chest.

"Will you return?" Always she spoke in soft melodic tones.

"I will not." Always he responded with his gentle harshness.

"Ah."

The rustle of a blanket broke the quiet and dark eyes burned into the pale flesh exposed; long lithe arms lift for an embrace. His blank face reveling nothing yet the dark empty pools flash something warmer. She draws him close, resting his face against her chest and her chin upon his crown.

"I will miss you." Her fingers play lightly with a bead from his necklace.

She smiles and briefly his arms tighten, "Do not cry for me."

"…"

He leaves that afternoon. Leaving the warmth of her embrace and leaving the question burning in her eyes unanswered.

Its mid-day three months later and the gentle morning breeze have grown to tender gusts. She is standing before a broken body, cooling in death. Long tendrils of blue-black hair are again fluttering with the playful winds, her eyes staring blankly over the horizon. A small hand clenches tightly against her breast and from it dangles her memories. Three black wooden beads strung upon a braid of her hair, the only gift she gave and the only thing that remains of him.

Three youths and one man stand behind her. Two give her looks of confused sorrow, the man one of pity and the last is a boy who looks very much like him. He is yelling at her.

"He was a demon! He killed everyone, his friends, family. He wiped our names from existence. How could you, how could you love that?!"

Barely pink lips twist into a small smile; her gaze dips down onto dimmed black eyes. Slowly she kneels, tenderly she caresses his cheek and lovingly she closes his eyes.

"I forgave him. He killed many, ended the lives of hundreds but he was a good man. I did not choose to love him but I do." Her words are soft and unrushed, her hand coils in his blood soaked hair.

**_..FIN.._**

**A/N.. **Yes, yes I know I still have the final chapter to write for 'Truths Tears' but the idea struck me and I had to get it out. I have no intention of continuing this, it was merely the product of late night musings on what kind of a woman would capture Itachi's cold heart, if at all. All comments are loved, feel free to leave this humble author your thoughts in the little box to your left.


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